This is a short story about a would be sissy housewife. I wrote it on the request of a reader on another site. This is not a trans story.
It is a story about a "sissy". I have several that email me frequently, and prefer being know by what I think of as a derogatory term.

The alarm went off. It was 6AM. Greg stretched and yawned. I looked down to see that the thin cover had a tent pole lifting it up. I had noticed
that over the last few days. He always woke up with a full erection.

He turned to me and smiled.

"Time to do your wifely duty Sarah."

He called me Sarah when he was in a good mood. Sissy wife or just sissy sometimes. I reached under the cover and grasped his cock. My god it was so hard. I pulled back the cover and climbed between his legs.

I licked the head like it was a lollypop.

"Come on wifey, worship that cock. It's where all your pleasure comes from."

I took half of his shaft into my mouth. I couldn't get it deeper as my gag reflex stopped me. My hands worked the rest of his shaft. As I looked
in his eyes, I saw a mocking satisfied look. It seemed to say.

"This is what you wanted sissy. This is what you have."

This is what I wanted. I met him at a TV/CD friendly bar. We chatted and he asked me my fantasy. I told him I would love to live as a fulltime
housewife.

He explained that would mean obeying my husband in everything, taking care of all his needs. I nearly came in my knickers when told me to book a week off work at the end of the month and move in with him for a week.

Then he said.

"Then we will see if you can cut it as my wife. If you can, we may make it permanent."

Now I was here with his huge cock filling my mouth.

"Give my balls some attention woman!"

I slipped further down the bed and licked and very gently sucked on each of his huge balls. They smelt mainly and tasted a little salty. Seeing
his cock tower above me made me realise I wasn’t really a man. Not compared to him.

"On your back sissy. I have to go to work."

My stockings and lace teddy made a zipping noise as I slid up the bed. All my lingerie was black. He loved black, lace and frills. So that’s
what I had to wear.

Quickly he got between my legs, grabbed my ankles and lifted them high into the air. He left one leg to fall over his shoulder, and roughly
jammed a finger inside me.

"Good, you’re still wet from last night."

He lifted me until my hole came level with his cock and shoved it right in. I cried out. I was getting used to his cock now, but it still hurt
being stretched that quickly.

"Shut you moaning women. You know you love cock."

He withdrew then thrust in again. Soon he built up a rhythm. The room was filled with slapping sounds and my sighs of pleasure and pain. I knew what was coming.

"You love my cock, don’t you?"

"Yes, my love."

"You need this to remind you of your place in the world, don’t you?"

I looked down and saw the tip of the small pink chastity he locked me into at the beginning of the week. He told me women relied on their man’s cocks for pleasure. The only cock in this house was his.

"Yes, my love."

I could feel his huge cock filling me, brushing my prostate with every stroke. He was using my body for his pleasure, and I was happy about it.
He was 8 inches taller than me. I felt so weak and feminine under him. Then as if reading my mind, he said.

"Do you feel feminine now, eh? Do you feel like a real housewife? Imagine all those wives out there now, just like you are getting a good seeing to by their husbands. You are just like them aren’t you. I’m going to cum inside you and leave you with a nice present that’s going to drip into your knickers later. You’ll be just like the rest of the housewives, won’t you? All remembering their husband’s cocks as they walk around in their wet knickers."

"Yeeeeessss"

He could get into my head. I don’t know how, but he could. His words and his thrusting cock drove me to have a full body orgasm. I shook and
trembled. Just as I was coming down, I felt his "present" spurting inside me.

He climbed off me looking smug. He looked down on me and spoke.

"Do I know how to treat my wife, or what?"

I only had the strength to nod.

He went to shower while I headed downstairs to make his breakfast and packed lunch. His present was already starting to drip into my knickers. As I climbed down the stairs I wondered what I should wear to turn my man on when he came home.

I wanted this life forever.

It was two weeks ago that Greg told me I had passed my weeks trial. He lay down the rules.

I would quit my job.

Tell my family and friends I was moving to the Australian outback
(I only had a sister that never liked me after she caught me in her clothes)

I would sell or give away all my possessions and hand over the money to him.

Give away all but one set of male clothes.
(In case of doctors’ visits. These were to be locked away by Greg.)

I was to obey him in everything, or I would be thrown out with just the clothes on my back.

I was never to cover my legs with anything but stockings.

Hormones would never be allowed. He wanted a sissy housewife, not a trans woman.

I agreed to his conditions. I was scared at giving up my independence but thought that this is what women used to do when they married. They relied on their men for everything.

He explained.

"I want a sissy housewife. You will always strive to look girly and feminine. You will always be a man underneath, a man forced to struggle his hardest to be the best wife he can be. With hormones it would be too easy. I get off on seeing you, a man forced to be as womanly as possible, just because I make you.”

“I don’t have too many clothes though Greg. I will have no money to buy more. What will I wear?"

“Don’t you worry your empty head about that. You concentrate on keeping your husband happy and he will look after you.”

Now I stood at the sink dressed as the perfect 1950’s housewife. I was wearing seamed stockings held up by a 6-strap suspender belt. White, silk, French knickers. A white merry widow corset was squashing my waist and forcing my fat to form B cup breasts. I looked down and felt a tingle in my caged cock when I saw my pink toenails peaking out of my white 6-inch sandals.

I had to lean forward to see my feet as my knee length, cap sleeved, flowery housedress was held away from my legs by my voluminous net petticoat. I had bright pink painted nails covered by pink rubber gloves.

My hair was curly and dyed blond. When I saw myself in the mirror with my bright pink lipstick I nearly fainted with joy. Greg had ordered these clothes for me. They were perfect.

The dinner was almost ready, and he was due home any minute.

“Honey I’m home.” He said in a mocking tone.

I turned; my hands covered in suds from washing up.

“Oh, hi honey. I get you a drink.”

“No, you stay right there. Don’t you dare move. You're perfect. You look like the perfect housewife.”

“But your dinner will...”

He crossed the kitchen and slapped my bottom hard.

“Oww, Greg please!”

“Do you want to go over my knee? Perhaps you need a reminder of who the man of the house is?”

With that I felt his hand force my head into the sink. My head was inches from the water. He kicked my legs apart. My heels skidded as I tried not to fall.

I felt my dress and petticoats being pulled up over my back. His hand caressed my silk knickers.

“Lovely. Just perfect.”

I heard him unzip his fly. I had prepared myself a few hours ago. I would always have to ready when Greg was in the house.
Without foreplay he plunged into me, nearly lifting me off my feet. His cock felt enormous. I thought I was getting used to him, but he must have really been turned on.

Soon the kitchen echoed to the sounds of my heels skidding on the tiled fool and the slapping of flesh on flesh.
I panted and whimpered as he took savage pleasure in my body.

“Who are you?” he said.

“Sssarah.”

“What are you?”

“A sissy.”

“A sissy what?”

“A sissy housewife.”

“Who’s sissy housewife?

“I’m yours Greg. I’m your sissy housewife. Your’s forever.”

Then the reality hit me. I was now stuck in a life of makeup, perfume, pretty clothes, cooking, cleaning and being used for my husband’s pleasure whenever he wanted. I was an old fashion housewife. A sissy housewife. I was his. I belonged to him.

I came harder than I have ever in my life. My legs gave way. I spasmed and as my body was being supported by Greg’s strong hands and cock, he came. I felt him pumping his load into me. Marking me with his DNA. Forcing me to be part of him.

He pulled out and guided me to a chair.

“Now, what were you saying about dinner?”